FIVE HAIKU (9th COLLECTION)*

1

Mother on wheel-chair
young daughter pushes and chats
they seem so cheerful

2

A hidden old lane
graffiti spread on the wall
who and when painted?

3

Among the antiques
stained photos of long ago
of married couples

4

Hamburger outlet
mothers wait in a long queue
' mum, I am hungry!'

5

Pots of red roses
so prominently displayed
the florist wears pink

Work harmoniously with your team

Learn
from
mistakes
of yesterday

What is that life
that's not somehow fixated?
Freud was an addicted collector
somewhat obsessive and deluded

Flashback into time
but in measured slow motion
past scenes revisited
in controlled emotion-

the blind pursuit of success
without the least compassion
never an eye for the good of others
all was self-preservation-

'I have but you have not
I hold the superior position
you are left too far behind
while I ride high on massive acquisition'--

now the darkness of life and time
sets in without individual distinction
pride and pomp will take a back-seat
as even the most powerful are locked in self-isolation.

Floating, floating, floating
floating in the thin air
drifting among the myriad clouds
high, so high up there--

lost in the stratosphere
(beyond time) of nowhere
carried by winds so fair
with such bliss none else can compare-

away, away, away
from the angst of fever and care
in this newfound realm beyond
where peace and beauty declare

their glory. As though borne
by mysterious wings-- there
earth melts into nothingness.....
(the alarm clock rings---I drop from the air!)

Flowers know their season
    those of my heart know none
    be it the bitterest winter
    or when the world is baking in melting sun-

    sprouting from its evergreen garden
    as though love's tender blush as just begun
     in such alluring blends--red, blue, pink and golden
    for her I'm waiting--- from her dreamy eyes I could never shun.

Should we remove the flowers
from the stem where they belong?
would they not weep to be snatched away
from home and their loved ones? Don't we do them wrong

in violating their rights to be left alone?
the vase is their prison and for freedom they sadly long
while we pass by without even giving them a single look
celebrating our party in wine, dance and song.

Each has their foible
  it's human nature
  but let such be
  as long as it doesn't hurt other people

I was a child then
leaves and flowers
I adored even when
they were drenched in rain-showers.

My joys multiplied
foliage of every kind
stirred my imagination
deep impressions it left behind

seamless colours, shapes, sizes
a collage that did humble
the paintings of the masters
whatever genius they did assemble

time has stolen such grace and majesty
old age is telling on my face
I'd gladly perish with every
flower or leaf where belongs my place.

You sanitise
your body
but neglect
the mind-
what use
at all
will you find?

If you can't see
  the crack in your wall
  it's your entire fault
  if on you it should fall!

It's sheer folly
to be at variance
with somebody
an imagined enemy!

What's wrong with my being silly
if folly were to make me happy?

Don't travel so far
that you can't find
your way home-
like a drunken person
in another place and time
you've left your heart and mind

to your senses
when you've later come
and long for home
it will be too distant-
your past footprint
you'll be unable to find

do not travel too far
all you need is in your home
many have returned empty-handed
disillusioned, disappointed, tired
and vowed never again to roam-
home is that which truly does bind

We can't replace mankind
  with a new form of **** Sapiens
  if we could, how sure are we
   that would be a better breed?

It's the loss of so many--a ubiquitous malaise-
too much chagrin the world indeed does know
the planning, the craving , the competing
and achieving--they take toll and life loses its glow-

footloose? an inane poetic advice
don't say that--it's puerile--oh no!
life is never a holiday nor a charmed tale
and really there's nowhere to go--

travel?  wanderlust? nothing better to do?
only the idle, the fool and mindless do so
leave the field, the sea, the mountain and hill alone
why bother which way the winds doth blow?

watch, oh watch how the share-market prices rise
up and up and the bank account's figures grow
footloose? take a break, relax--are you out of your wits?
success, power and money is the only show we know!

Light of weight
timid at heart
society-shy
I stand apart-

footprints are meant
for the strong and the large
the sand I walk feels me not
it has no reason to barge.

A step at a time
   light as feather
   leaving no footprints
   untraced by any other--

   distance is relative
   neither near or far does matter
   the journey and not the arrival
   does count better and more sought-after.

My beloved, say nothing
just give me your tender hand
our eyes will do the telling
our very hearts we will understand

Our human life
                Is but part of nature
                Splendour is everywhere
                There’s endless beauty to treasure.


                My artist-eyes roam the earth
                I see the beauty, not the terror*
                Of wild life and animals
                 My heart feels no tremor.

                How else could I paint
                If I set myself asunder?
                I should be the observed
               As well as the observer.

               Life is the undefinable mystery
               Yet I would count no creature as error
               My art is gratitude and surrender
               To some deep Unknown Power

Dreaming is healthy--
it shows us our other hidden side
we gain with such better insight

Every idea can be more effectively put across
(in my view)  with a better choice of words

Dear Dr Wittgenstein

   If the essence of words
   we can't  trust fully
   how else can we live
   meaningfully?

I don't come
knowing I'm not welcome

Life then
       an image
       a symbol
       a metaphor?

       are words
       real?
       what do
      they mean?

      what's love
      do lovers know?
       a lacuna
       a shadow?

        you and I
        blood and flesh
        we don't belong
        don't we clash?

         the moment
        the hour
        ghost of time
         under cover?

         only this I trust
         poetry's power
         in it I'll die
         yet live forever.

There's no such thing
as 'forever' -
it's a euphemism
where writers err!

The life best lived

is still a foreword

there's much more

waiting to be said

Oh Lo
write a-gain
each word a sweet echo
a bright refrain!

Too much philosophising
ruins the joy of simple living

Many reasons there are
  for forgetting
  I can't tell what yours are
  I choose the non-remembering.

Remembering is easy
forgetting is hard
less to do with the mind
it's more about the heart--

memory binds like cello-tape
it's a permanent resident that refuses to depart
digging into the darkest corner of the being
it unrelentingly tears the person apart.

It's in forgetting
that I best remember
the sunlit moments
of the past---they gather

when painful memories
take leave.  My heart should never
retrace the paths of pain trodden
which have long drifted away in time's river.

Forgiveness
is not the product
of reason
but compassion

For J.A.
My violin is my very voice
my deepest thoughts it does convey
amidst my darkest lonely hours
it drives all my sorrows away-

to a celestial realm we belong
where beauty is beyond words to say
the edge of eternity we together touch
where the brightest sunshine adorns every day.

My song has taken holiday
my heart is lost in the wilderness of nowhere
love is bitter and walks away
life slumbers in listlessness.

Tomorrow--what has it to say
and what would my past love declare?
she might walk by but would not stay
useless of me to utter: life's unfair!

Poets voyage in the same boat

towards the Shore of Beauty

though each writes in different mode

their hearts flutter in shared humanity

Roses, smiles, music
love, wonder, joy and rainbow
for my loved one all I'll pick
my heart truly she does know

I am neither pro nor contra
independent--- that would take me far

If myself
    I don't understand
    how could
    I know the world?

It can wait---the universe-
  understand yourself first

1.  slow down

2.  breathe slowly and deeply

3.  you are alive and have creativity

4.  love yourself as your best friend

5.   keep busy doing the things you like

6.   live more, think less

7.    seek more friends

8.    take a daily walk

9.    listen to Bach and Mozart

10.   laugh to your heart's content

For this we die, bespoke
wanting a meaningful dia-logue

I know what NOT to do today--that's ALL to it!

For want of words
I should silent stay
fabricate or distort?
that must not be my way

for language has life
and to me harsh words it would say
if I were a purveyor of falsehood
or its beauty and purity betray.

Going forward
doesn't make a hero
neither does going backward
make one a coward

That which is  inexpressible
      cannot be conveyed in words proper
      language is then but a crude tool-
      however smart the philosopher or writer-

      there's an undefinable dimension
      beyond our limited comprehension
      it can only be intuitively felt by the heart
      but the person can't offer any explanation

Pieces of your mind
          don't give them
         too easily away-
         keep some for another day

Foul?
don't ever
apply the word
to the innocent fowl!

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